The Desert Princess
by The Rise Of The Cursed Child
Summary: Not long after the death of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, a young girl arrives in Dorne, and so Elyse Sand begins her existence. Hating her Targaryen side she fully embraces all that the Martell have to offer, until she is forced to confront her past and memories she has soent so long trying to hide.
1. Chapter 1

Rhaenys Targaryen died that day, a terrified little girl who didn't understand why her father abandoned her and why her mother had told her to run and hide. She died that day, both as far as Westeros concerned and in Rhaenys' own eyes.

It had not been too difficult to find a child who shared the same general characteristics as the princess, it was true that she resembled her Dornish family more than her Targaryen one, but there was a tendency for people to exaggerate her resemblance.

She hadn't know what was happening when a man she didn't recognise pulled her out from under her father's bed, accompanied by a little girl dressed in one of Rhaenys's own dresses. There was nothing she could do as she was carried through dark tunnels that seems endless to her young eyes, and placed on a ship sailing off into the unknown.

Too disorientated and traumatised to be truly aware of her surrounds she could have spent anywhere between a few days and several months on that ship, hidden below deck and receiving no human interaction beside the woman who brought her meals.

Sat there in the dim light she couldn't help but miss her home. She wanted nothing more than for her mother to pull her into her arms and never let go, Rhaenys could even recall the sweet, flowery scent that her mother also wore. Little Aegon, too small to play with but significant enough to miss him too. Even though she hadn't seen him in a long time she missed her cousin Viserys, who used to play with her around the Red Keep. Memories of Grandmother also crossed her mind, far more often than the other two members of her family who she preferred to forget. It was easy to not miss her grandfather, a violent, angry man that she had no good memories of.

The only one left was her father.

She knew that she was meant to love her father, and she could remember doing so when she was younger. However, at some point after she realised that he left, when she accepted that he wasn't coming home, she no longer felt guilty about being angry with him.

"Your Highness, it's time to go." A man she had never seen before held out his hand, kneeling down in front of her.

Despite her fear and worry she took his hand and followed him as he brought her up to the deck for the first time since the journey began and the sudden blinding light caught her unaware. Her new surroundings where far warmer than she was used to, the stifling dryness of the air was completely unfamiliar.

By the time she was escorted off the boat her sight had been restored, and looking around her she could see nothing but endless, golden sand in every direction. The only living things in sight were a small group of people waiting by the side of the ship. One man in particular seemed very interested in her, his gaze not leaving her for a single moment. He was tall, dark haired and something about him reminded Rhaenys of her mother.

"Rhaenys..." The man began, before collapsing to his knees in front of her and pulling her into a fierce hug.

Dazed, she didn't know what to do, normally strangers weren't allowed anywhere near her, she was a royal princess after her.

She found herself hugging back, and upon smelling the same scent that followed her mother she burst into tears for the first time since she had been taken. The tears fell from both of them, and the man began stroking her hair affectionately, clinging to her as if it was keeping him alive.

"Oh, Elia, I will protect your child. You will be avenged." He murmured, a sharpness piercing his words

Elia. Rhaenys recognised that name, it was what people called her mother, but she was too young to understand what he was saying.

Finally finding a voice she found herself saying: "who are you?"

"I'm your uncle, your mother was my sister." He explained, still clutching her hand as he stood up.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Was? Where is mama? I want to see her." Her voice trembled as she spoke, but she tried to remain strong as she looked up at her uncle.

He seemed lost for words for a few seconds, but eventually replied, "not right now, my little one. Your mother wants me to look after you for a bit so you'll be coming to live with me and my family-your family. I have some daughters who are about the same age as you so you won't be lonely."

Luckily this seemed to comfort Rhaenys slightly, and she didn't resist as her uncle pulled him into his arms and carried her over to a horse. Looking over his shoulder she saw some of her uncle's men passing the people on the ship some coins, quite a few coins from what she saw. Her uncle pulled her on to a horse and sat beside her, but made sure that she was secure and safe.

Rhaenys had never rode a horse before, she had always been kept in carriages whilst soldiers rode around them. A large part of her was terrified at the idea of riding away with these strangers but there was something about this man who claimed to be her uncle that made her instantly trust him.

Although it was the middle of the day she fell asleep the moment they began riding across this foreign desert. Rhaenys Targaryen was no more, and no one had any reason to suspect otherwise.

From that day on only Elyse Sand survived.


	2. Chapter 2

**OBERYN**

Oberyn knew that his family didn't except his return for several more days, but his tour of all the best taverns and whorehouses that Dorne had to offer finished earlier than he had anticipated. Of course, he would have preferred to stay as long as possible, but he had begun missing his family, as large and loud as it was.

Knowing that they usually broke their fast as this time he headed straight for the western garden, the terrace there capturing the sun just right in the morning so that it was cast in an almost ethereal glow. He could understand why his brother had taken up residency there recently, it allowed Doran to try and pretend that his life was perfect. On the other hand, Oberyn enjoyed the Water Gardens as a place of pleasure, but didn't like remaining there too long, his pain was too important to him to be forgotten.

"Oberyn!" Ellaria cried as soon as she saw him and she ran over to him, quickly pulling him into a passionate embrace, regardless of the numerous children sat at the table.

There were many cries of his name, and he soon found himself overwhelmed in affection, particularly from Dorea and Loreza, his youngest children, who threw themselves into his arms. His older children, as well as his niece and nephew kept a distance whilst the younger ones showered him with affection.

"It's good to see you, uncle." Young Trystane piped up, and Oberyn smiled back, remarking on the fact that he was growing up to be a handsome man.

He turned to Arianne, who sat at the head of the table in the absence of her father, looking just as regal and dangerous as usual. Doran had taken to his bed the last few days as his leg had flared up, which seemed to be occurring more and more lately. As much as he loved his brother, both Arianne and Oberyn shared a distaste for Doran's inaction and tendency to forget the numerous crimes done against this family by the ones that now sat on the throne.

"Where's Elyse?" He couldn't help but ask as the girl was absent from the meal.

Sarella answered instead, "She was still in bed when I left, she looked tired so I left her there."

Elyse and Sarella had always been close, Oberyn knew that the cousins had bonded instantly upon meeting, and where so close in age that a friendship seemed inevitable.

"It's probably best to leave her for now." Arianne remarked, a coolness in her tone and several words left unsaid. She loved Elyse, no matter how it appeared, but over the years had grown mildly irritated with the way he seemed to obsess over his niece.

"I will go to her now, dear niece, her letters said she missed me." He retorted but took no offence from her words, despite her sharp tongue Arianne would do anything to protect her family, a trait they shared.

Leaving the terrace, he headed straight for his niece's rooms, which lay in between those of Sarella and Tyene and overlooked the beach. Oberyn paused at her door before knocking lightly, knowing how much of a light sleeper she was. If she was still asleep as Sarella had said, then he would wait outside until she woke, but knew that it was likely she would have woken by now, hating to waste too much of the day in bed.

"Yes?" Elyse's familiar voice called back, so he opened the door, watching as his niece's face burst into a huge smile that warmed his heart. The young woman through herself into his arms, and act he quickly returned, kissing the top of her head.

As she pulled away from him, Oberyn saw that she was beginning to rival him in height, a trait she hadn't inherited from his side of the family, but quickly cast any thought of the other side of her family away. In most other ways she resembled her mother, lovely Elia, and he wasn't quite sure whether it made him happy or sad, although he was certain it made him love her all the more. He had always been close to Elia as children, and as such had taken the child's wellbeing as a personal responsibility.

"You should have told me you were arriving early!" She frowned at him, but a twinkle in her dark violet eyes told him she wasn't genuinely upset.

"Is it so wrong to want to surprise you?"

She sighed, shaking her head at him. Elyse loved her uncle so much, but his impulsive and carefree mannerisms often clashed with her own personality. He tended to berate her for being too serious, much to her denial.

Observing her room, Oberyn saw that her bed was hardly slept in, instead covered in mounds of books that he had no doubt she had every intention of reading.

"So, this was the reason you were too tired to dine with everyone? Are you not able to just finish your book in the morning?" Despite asking the question, Oberyn knew that things like that were of no concern to his niece, sleep was merely a necessarily evil to her, and she preferred to it as little as possible.

"I was researching Queen Nymeria and soon I had to know everything about her." Elyse explained, a slightly guilty look on her face.

Oberyn picked up one of the books for himself, glancing at the cover before returning it to its place. "The warrior queen, I assume you now idolise her."

"Of course, uncle, she was a skilled general, a glorious queen and proved to the people of Westeros that a woman could be just as strong as men are." Her voice became more passionate the more she spoke, and Oberyn could help but smile in pride.

When he had accepted Rhaenys, now Elyse, into his family he had the slightest fear that he wouldn't be able to look at her and not see her monster of a father. Luckily, most of the time she only reminded him of her mother, a beautiful, kind girl that had been too good for Rhaegar Targaryen. Elyse had chosen her new name herself, she had come to him a few weeks after arriving and proudly proclaimed that she had chosen a new name. Primarily this had been for her own safety, there was no way that she could have publically kept the Targaryen name, but also Elyse had wanted to gain a fresh start. It may have taken a while for the young girl to adapt to her new name but soon the name Rhaenys became just as dead as the world thought the girl.

There was not a day when Oberyn forgot the danger his niece, and supposed daughter, was in. All it would take for someone to pay too much attention to Elyse Sand and see that her eyes were purple, and make the connection that she would be the exact age that Princess Rhaenys was when she died. However, not a single rumour had emerged in all these years, violet eyes were not entirely uncommon in Dorne, the Dayne's for example, and there was no reason to suspect Rhaenys had survived.

He listened patiently as Elyse passionately began declaring everything she had learnt about her ancestor, and he paid attention to every single word. Stood in front of his was a beautiful young woman, accomplished, intelligent, trained to fight, and most importantly: good.

Elia would be proud.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're not even trying to hit me." Obara remarked, shaking her head dismissively.

"I am!" Elyse insisted, thrusting her sword forward once more only to find it immediately deflected by her cousin. A bead of sweat grew on her forehead, plastering her hair to her face. She knew she didn't look graceful and elegant like her cousins, they always seemed to make fighting look as easy as breathing.

Obara grabbed Elyse's head, forcing the younger girl to look into her eyes, despite the violet-eyed woman being the taller of the two. "Act like this in a real fight and you won't last ten seconds."

"Maybe I'm just not meant to wield a sword?" She made no attempt to hide the bitterness in her words. Everyone here in Dorne seemed to take up weapons like an extra limb, they had a fight in them that she had never been able to replicate.

The Sand Snake scoffed, "Don't be stupid, I've seen you train on your own so I know that you have more talent than you might realise."

Sometimes when the dreams got too bad, and her books weren't enough to prevent her from falling back asleep, she would go out a practice, waving her sword at training dummys until she couldn't even lift the weapon any more.

"Then why can't I ever beat you?" She hated sounding like a whiny child but her words were genuine. Everyone expected her to become a fierce warrior like her cousins, not living up to their expectations was something that shattered her heart. When people saw her, she knew what they were thinking, as far as they were aware she was Oberyn's daughter but a living disappointment in terms of her fighting prowess. The rest of Oberyn's children, at least those old enough to train, was immensely skilled and didn't even need weapons to be deadly.

"I have been trained since I was a small child. Father didn't even let you pick up a training sword until your tenth birthday."

"Then I'm doomed to always lose."

Obara was used to Elyse's moods and periods of hopelessness and knew how to deal with them. "Cheer up, cousin. Keep acting so depressing and you will definitely never get any better."

Sighing, Elyse forced a smile on to her face, refusing to let Obara have the moral high ground. "What do I need to do?"

"You never put any passion into it. That's your problem."

This confused Elyse greatly, and her face must have reflected that judging from the look Obara was giving her back.

"Passion? I _have_ passion." She never did anything half-heartedly in her life, when she smiled she was overflowing with joy, when she cried she felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest. The only emotions she felt were extremes, and unfortunately this also extended to her anger, and for this reason she refused to let her temper get the better of her.

"Maybe you do, but not when you're fighting."

"You're family, I love you, of course I'm not going to treat it like a real duel."

As she said these words she realised what her problem must be and why she felt that way. Her entire life Elyse had clung to her Dornish family, valuing them as if the Targaryen side of her didn't exist. Being a Martell was easier than the alternative, and so her family meant the world to her.

"Then pretend I'm not family. Imagine I'm your worst enemy and this is a fight to the death." Obara explained, hoping that it would have the desired effect on her younger cousin. She knew exactly who Elyse would be thinking of.

 _Her father._

Not Oberyn, the man who had raised her and loved her like his own daughter, attached to the only thing that remained of his favourite sister.

 _Rhaegar Targaryen._

Obara hated the man just as the rest of the Martells did, cursing him for the deaths of her aunt and baby cousin. However, she also knew that Elyse tried to suppress any memories of the dead man, burying anything related to who Rhaenys once was.

Realising that she still wasn't getting spirited enough to fight she tried one last tactic, but only once she made she no one else was in the training yard. "Fight me Rhaenys."

This had the expected reaction, with Elyse immediately rushing forward, sword raised. Their swords clashed several times, the number of hits equally matched. If Obara wanted to then she could end this fight, her technical training greater than Elyse's. However, she wanted to see all that her cousin was capable of, and she definitely wasn't disappointing. It seemed as though the little girl had a dragon in her after all, not that she would tell Elyse that.

Taken by surprise, Obara was suddenly knocked to the ground, Elyse's sword catching her knee in just the right way to send her crashing down. It was lucky that they were only using training swords. The girl stood above her, still clutching her sword in her hands, her breathing heavy. She almost seemed to be in a state of shock, paralysed.

"Elyse, are you ok?"

Her trance broke as soon as it began, with her falling down to Obara's side. "I am so sorry, I didn't mean to do that! Do you need the master?"

Obara laughed, a hearty laugh that broke the tense atmosphere. "I'm fine, it'll take more than that to kill me." She was a strong woman, with people often likening her to a beast, more manly than feminine. Not that she cared, she was a fierce warrior, she could leave feminine wiles to Tyene and Arianne. Even Elyse had been developing recently, and it would not be long before some man tried to seduce her, if they hadn't already.

Elyse let an uneasy smile appear on her face, proud that she had finally been able to defeat her cousin, but upset that she had allowed her temper to get the better of her, even if only for a moment.

"Who taught you that move?" She asked curiously, it certainly hadn't been her, and it didn't suit Nym, Tyene or Sarella's style, and she hadn't seen them training with Elyse recently.

"It was Quentyn." Elyse admitted, remembering his visit a few months prior, Lord Yronwood had allowed him to visit his family back in Dorne for a week. The cousins had been incredibly close as children, and when he had been sent away to fostered it had been devastating for the young child who had already lost enough of her family for one lifetime.

"Well it would seem he's actually learning how to use a sword properly." Obara teased, knowing that despite his years of training he lacked a natural talent for fighting, he was far too cautious and timid for such things. "Maybe it means he's managed to put his _other_ sword to use then."

Elyse's mouth dropped open at her cousin's innuendo, but wasn't overly shocked, Quentyn was often a source of teasing by his cousins. "It's not his fault he's not good at talking to women."

"He doesn't have to talk much, in fact the less talking the better when it comes to these matters."

"He's shy!" She stuck up for their cousin.

Obara grinned, Elyse and Quentyn were the same age and so a form of comradery had formed between the pair, and when joined by Sarella where practically inseparable. Together the three of them had become thick as thieves, rivalling Arianne and Tyene's partnership. They made an odd group, but it was only in Dorne that the three of them could ever be friends. A Dornish Prince, a hidden Targaryen and one of the Red Viper's bastards.

"We can always ask him next time we see him." Obara said, watching Elyse's head shaking dismissively.

Casting away any of their earlier animosity, the cousins continued to train, unaware that Oberyn and Doran was watching the two young women from the balcony.


	4. Chapter 4

_The world was split in two._

 _To her left was nothing but a frozen landscape, pure white snow coating every available surface. Entirely unused to such conditions, the cruel, icy breeze froze the very blood in her veins. The winter seemed to stretch much farther than she could see, but on the very edge of the horizon she could see shapes moving, thousands and thousands of figures marching forward towards her. They didn't appear like a normal army, they seemed to take no notice of the cold, focused only on walking._

 _On her right was the opposite, but no less unnerving. In the frozen world, there had at least been a world to see, here there was only fire, relentless flames soaring as high as the sky and in every direction. The flames did not burn as she expected, she had been anticipating the flesh of her arm to sizzle and blacken under the heat, instead tickling her side as if the fire was simply a feather. A thunderous road sounded far into the distance. There was what sounded like the flapping of wings and whatever beast lurked in the flames got closer, the cry shaking the very ground._

 _Her feet were frozen, unable to escape from the threat from either side, utterly trapped between advancing danger. The roaring grew loader._

 _She could no longer hear her own breathing._

 _The fire burned._

 _The ice froze._

 _The ground beneath her feet cracked._

"It's okay! It's just a nightmare!"

Elyse found herself sat up, Sarella holding her shoulders and shaking her. Her cousin's hair was dishevelled and a panicked look covered her face. Gulping she realised her throat ached, presumable from screaming, and the dampness across her cheeks meant that she must have been crying.

"You were crying out, screaming and shaking, I didn't know what to do." Sarella explained, her voice shaking. "Do you want me to get someone-father, Doran, Arianne?"

Unable to find her voice yet she shook her head vigorously, her eyes widening in panic at the thought. _No one can know._

Sarella stroked her arms, using her own sleeve to dry her face and looking visibly worried. It took several minutes for Elyse to find the right words to say. "Please don't tell anyone. It was nothing."

"I'm not an idiot, that definitely wasn't nothing."

"It's nothing I can't handle." She mumbled dismissively, pulling her blanket further around her. Internally she cursed for allowing Sarella to stay the night, knowing that there was the chance she could have one of her dreams.

The olive-skinned girl scoffed, her gaze serious. "Handle? No one should be okay with having nightmares that bad."

"I've been fine so far."

"You've had dreams like this before and haven't told anyone? Elyse, that's idiotic even for you."

Part of her was tempted to run away from Sarella's questioning, but instead she couldn't help but retort: "With a reaction like that is it any surprise that I haven't said anything?"

"Fine then." Sarella sighed, knowing that her cousin was far too stubborn and bull-headed to admit that she had acted foolishly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Anything except it." She bitterly muttered, her stance becoming defensive as the thought of discussing her dreams made her incredibly uncomfortable.

"You know I have to tell someone about-"

Cutting her off before she could finish , grabbing Sarella's hands and pulling them to her chest. "No! Please, I'm begging you. If you care for me at all I ask that you keep it a secret."

"Only if you tell me how long you've been having these dreams."

She hesitated before responding, debating whether or not she was going to lie. "A couple of years." Her final response wasn't entirely accurate, but it was better than telling her best friend that she had been having them at least once a week since her mother died.

"Years!" Sarella couldn't help but exclaim. "That's not normal, Elyse."

"You think I don't realise that?" She didn't intend for it to come out as harshly as it did, but the thought of being abnormal stirred something inside of her that brought back memories. She didn't want to be different, strange, because it wasn't so much of a stretch to claim that it was the first sign of madness. After spending years ignoring the possibility that she hadn't been able to escape the Targaryen legacy, Sarella had managed to drag up every buried emotion and thought.

"Why are you so afraid of telling people? You could get milk of the poppy from the maester, he would have stuff that helps with nightmares." Sarella didn't have to know that she had tried milk of the poppy, gradually taking some of his supplies when he didn't realise. She didn't have to know that if had done nothing except prevent her from waking up when the dreams became too intense.

"I'm not afraid."

"You're as pale as the dead, stop trying to deflect."

Under Sarella's stern gaze she was unable to formulate a response, a defence. She knew that she must look an absolute beast, sweaty, shaking and red-eyed. Finding no more energy to fight back, she lay back down on her bed, where Sarella joined her, resting on her shoulder.

"Alright, I'm afraid." She practically whispered, her voice tinier and weaker than she had heard before. "Do you want me to say that I am absolutely terrified of what I see when I close my eyes? The things I see are not normal, I don't know what they are but it isn't normal."

"I am so sorry. I want you to know that I am here if you need me."

"Thank you."

"It's okay, we're family, you don't have to hide anything from me." Even though they were cousins, they had been raised as sisters and cared greatly for each other.

"I really mean it, just being here helps."

"I'll stay here until the morning in case you have another nightmare."

Curled up in the blankets, the cousin lay there until the morning light shone through the window and the birds became twittering. Sarella had kept her promise and stayed, even if Elyse didn't say that she had spent the remained of the night until to fall asleep.

A.N. :

I hope you're enjoying the story so far, and I know the chapters are quite short so it may seem to be moving quite slowly, but the next few chapters will be more eventful. I always find it quite difficult to create an immersive story and compelling characters, but I hope as the story continues it develops.

I've always been fascinated by the idea that Rhaenys survived her families' murder and how it might affect her growing up. There are a lot of stories out there in which Rhaegar and the entire Targaryen dynasty is glorified and proclaimed the rightful heirs, and I wanted to write something different, with Rhaenys/Elyse rejected that side of her and being incredibly resentful toward her father. She has also been raised by her mother's family, and as such prefers identifying with her Martell side. Even her own name is evidence of that, suppressing anything Targaryen, and choosing a new identity for herself.


	5. Chapter 5

Elyse needed to be alone.

Even though she loved her family more than anything and wished for nothing more than to be near them, the constant noise of cousins shouting and playing could become quite stifling for the girl. She had never considered herself a particularly outgoing and extroverted person, her childhood had make her somewhat wary of strangers, and she found sitting in her room with a stack of books to be just as entertaining as running around the Water Gardens with the youngest of Oberyn's daughters.

She has realised very quickly that her uncles worried if she spent too much time in her room, and so when she truly wanted to have some time to herself she would either find a corner of the library or go out to the market. It may have seemed odd that she would choose to find herself amongst the crowds vying for the best produce, but there was something calming about being surrounded by people who had no idea who she was, and didn't care how talkative she was.

By the time she made it to the market, the morning bustle had already passed so it was relatively empty, just a few older women inspecting some fruit, and a bald man staring at a stall.

"The best lemons in Dorne!" One vender called out to her, Elyse smiling slightly but shaking her head in response.

Elyse was thankful that not many people knew her face here; everyone knew Arianne, her notoriety infamous, and some of her younger cousins liked looking at the jewellery, but not many people paid attention to her. She wasn't the most beautiful, or the strongest, she didn't have to allure that Arianne had, and she lacked the same confidence that her entire family seemed to possess. There was nothing special about her, at least that people knew, but that was exactly how Elyse liked it: she could be invisible.

Finding herself drawn to a stall in the corner of the market she gazed at the various trinkets and objects sold there, seeing nothing particularly noteworthy. Just as she was about to move on, something caught her eye, freezing her in her step.

A silver pendant sat on the centre of the stall, blending in with the worthless nothings laid beside it. Engraved on to its surface was a sun, gold streams outlining the shape. It was silly, she knew, but there was something about the necklace that refused to let her eyes wander, something familiar.

"See anything you like?" A male voice asked beside her, the surprise making Elyse step backwards.

Looking at the man she saw the he was smiling, his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn't particularly tall, larger than average, and entirely bald. His clothes seemed out of place on him, plain brown rags and sandals, yet he looked as if he would be just as comfortable in finery.

"I'm sorry?" She asked, her gaze narrowing as she realised that he was still staring at her, his eyes unwavering.

"I saw you looking at this necklace, it's an interesting piece, isn't it?" His voice had an odd quality to it, charming yet slippery, and something about it made Elyse want to run in the opposite direction.

"I had no idea."

"You see the sun, of course, it represents Dorne, specifically the Martells." He paused, looking at Elyse's reaction.

She knew that, everyone in Dorne knew that, where he was going with this conversation she had no idea. Like anywhere, there were those in Dorne who wouldn't hesitate to kidnap a woman and sell her to slavers, but in the middle of the market, in sights of a dozen other vendors there was no way anything could happen, she hoped.

"What I didn't expect you saw was what was on the other side…" He gestured expectantly to Elyse, motioning towards the pendant.

Following his instruction, she turned the necklace over, and froze.

"The dragon, symbolic of the Targaryens."

Part of her wanted to scream at this man, throw the necklace in his face and run in the opposite direction, and it took all of her restraint to not do so. She quickly dropped it back on to the table as if it burned, not letting such a thing be near her.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to say: "Oh, how nice."

The man just continued to smile, looking into her soul, observing her reaction.

"It was made by Rhaegar Targaryen for his wife, Elia Martell. There were two identical necklaces made and he gave one to his wife on their wedding day and kept the other for himself. Princess Elia died with hers still around her neck, at least as far as I've heard."

The moment he said _that_ man's name she felt her heart break. Over ten years of trying to suppress everything related to him and he had managed to undo it in a single moment. At the same time, though, it made perfect sense, and she remembered where she seen it before. Her mother had worn it every day, even on the day she died.

"So, this is the other one." She mused, trying to not let her voice sound as bitter as she was feeling. "This belonged to the Prince."

The man nodded, picking the pendant up from where she had dropped it and held it up to the light. "It's very unusual, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"How it managed to make its way here."

"I suppose so." Elyse remarked, wondering why this man was still attempting to talk to her, with part of her fearing that someone he knew exactly who she was. _He can't possibly know,_ she tried to convince herself.

Sounding confident, the bald man attempted to pass the necklace back to her. "It must be fate."

Even though he was holding it out, she refused to take it from him, instead taking a step back. She had no idea how this conversation must appear to anyone else in the market. "Fate? Why?"

His only response was a calm, knowing smile that chilled the blood in her veins.

"I'm needed at home so I'll have to excuse myself." She quickly attempted to exit the conversation, very reluctant to remain talking to this man who seemed to know more about her own family than she did.

"Of course, child, I won't keep you." He seemed entirely unfazed by her obvious lie but made no attempt to pick her up on it. "You won't be buying the necklace? The shopkeeper here clearly doesn't know his history or else it would cost far more gold than it does, I'm sure you could sell a Targaryen relic at a very high price yourself, or even keep it."

Tired of his hidden meanings and familiar tone she bit back: "I have no interest in anything to do with the Targaryens, they are gone and keeping reminders will do no good for anyone."

Not bothering to see his reaction Elyse stormed off, heading towards the Water Gardens and trying not to let her tears fall from her face.


	6. Chapter 6

A few days had passed since the incident at the market, and even though nothing unusual had happened since, Elyse couldn't help but feel on edge, as if her world was a breath away from shattering. Of course, she had been paranoid for years, worried that somehow her identity would be discovered, but the years had tempered it to some extent, she mostly relied on Oberyn for excessive concern over her safety.

Her mind was constantly alert.

She had avoided telling anyone about the necklace and the strange man that seemed to know too much about both it and her, something captured the words before she could utter the and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Maybe some part of her wanting to pretend as if there was nothing to worry about, that the necklace had nothing to do with her, the Targaryens were nothing more than people she had heard of.

She was Rhaenys Targaryen.

Rhaenys Targaryen died years ago, a child of three summers who had a happy life and a tragic death, died not knowing of her father's betrayal, her grandfather's madness and the pain that came from her lineage.

Elyse Sand on the other hand was a daughter of House Martell, a young woman who worried for nothing and spent her days in the Water Gardens, playing with her siblings and cousins, occasionally venturing to Sunspear when her uncle Doran decided to take ruling Dorne seriously. Elyse was happy, she may be a bastard but she was a Dornish bastard, loved by her family and had nothing to worry about in the world.

"Dear cousin! I've been looking for you." Arianne's familiar voice broke her concentration.

Arianne had found her sat in the library, tucked into an alcove with a book titled ' _The History of House Martell"_ – a favourite of Elyse's.

The trueborn daughter of Prince Doran, the heir, was a beautiful woman who was entirely aware of the effect she had on men. A Dornish beauty with her long dark curls and infinitely dark eyes, she was a fiery beauty which a temper to match. Arianne had been one of the most vocal when it came to matters concerning Elyse; they both carried an anger around in them: anger at the death of her aunt Elia and Elia's young son, anger at the fact that Elyse was forced to pretend to be a simple bastard when she had been born a Princess. But most strongly: anger at Doran's unwillingness to seek revenge.

Arianne sat herself beside Elyse, clasping the younger girl's hands in her own. "I need to tell you something."

"I'm listening." She replied hesitantly, cautious about whatever had made Arianne seek her out.

"You can't tell our cousins, not Sarella, not Nymeria, not any of them. Father doesn't even want me telling you, but you deserve to know." She insisted with an assertive tone, her eyes completely serious.

"I won't tell anyone, just tell me."

"I am betrothed." Arianne said simply, watching Elyse's reaction.

She didn't know if she was shocked or not. Most highborn girls would already be married by Arianne's age, but Doran had been reluctant to accept any proposals, for what reason Elyse didn't know.

She was about to exclaim her congratulations when she paused, _why did Doran not want anyone to know? Why did Arianne insist on telling me?_

"Who to?" She decided was to safest answer.

When Arianne finally spoke she did so calmly, letting no emotion into her words. "Your uncle."

"My uncle?" She didn't understand, and it took several seconds for her to remember that she still had an uncle, a Targaryen uncle. "Viserys?" She stretched the syllables out, having uttered the name for the first time in years.

Nodding, Arianne elaborated: "Apparently it has been arranged for years, but he only sought fit to tell me today." Her words became bitter as she spat. "I thought he might have enough respect to understand that I have a choice in the matter, he let me think I had a choice in who I marry, but he lied! One day, sooner or later, he will die and I will rule in my own right. He has taken all of that away from me, I am just a political tool for him."

Though she was still in shock at the thought of Arianne marrying Viserys, she could see exactly why Arianne was angry. If Doran was intending them to marry then it meant he was tying the future of House Martell with House Targaryen, as if that went well the last time that happened. Doing so would anger the Baratheons and Lannisters who had tried so hard to erase the dragons from Westeros, and the marriage would be essentially declaring war. Elyse could only imagine that Doran would do so if he was planning to put the Targaryens back on the throne.

"I don't understand why he would do that, does he want Viserys to be king?"

"I assume so, I can't even begin to understand his logic! I swear to the gods my father is going mad, the Targaryens had brought nothing but misery and death to our family and he wants to do so again. He refuses to demand revenge against the Lannisters for your mother's death but he is happy to marry me to the Targaryens. He is insane!"

Suddenly, Elyse wondered something, "So he had been in contact with Viserys?"

"Apparently, we were betrothed not long after the rebellion, after you arrived. I doubt your uncle had much say in the matter either. Elyse, he could be as mad as his father!" This kind of outburst was unlike anything she had seen from Arianne before. Yes, Arianne had a temper which was wasn't afraid to unleash, but most of the time she was more controlled then this, concealing her true intentions until the right moment.

"I don't think Viserys is mad." Her uncle had been four years older than her and as such obviously hadn't wanted to spend copious amounts of time with her. However, the boy she remembered hadn't been unusual.

"You don't _think…"_ Her answer was clearly not sufficient for her cousin, who encouraged Elyse to speak more.

"He was a normal child, I'm not sure." She struggled to remember things she had previously tried to actively block. "A bit spoilt if I remember correctly."

"That was years ago, now he is a grown man stuck in Essos with your aunt and crazy ambitions of returning to Westeros and taking back the throne."

 _Daenerys._ Her aunt she has never met.

"He wants to be king?" Of course, Elyse knew that her aunt and uncle were living in exile, but for some reason had never made the connection that one day they might want to return. Being honest about herself, she had never considered being queen once. The Targaryens had been removed from the throne, that was it, dynasties come and go and there was no point trying to fight the change.

Not answering her question, Arianne continued. "I don't know why he is supporting Viserys. If he wants a Targaryen on the throne then why doesn't he just support you? He knows you and-"

Elyse interrupted, her voice colder than she had ever used before. "I'm not a Targaryen." Her short, blunt response seemed to break Arianne from her rant.

"Rhaenys…" She flinched under that name, putting her head in her hands as she felt a headache emerging.

"No. I am not a Targaryen, I am not Rhaenys. Don't call me that." She punctuated each word with force, biting through each sentence as if it burnt.

"You can't just act as if that side of you doesn't exist, however much I want to agree with you."

Arianne was usually happy for Elyse to embrace her Martell heritage, but she had grown tired of her cousin's denial.

"Quiet! How dare you act as if you know who I am and how I feel. Why would I want to be a Targaryen when all that means is accepting a legacy of inbred monsters who all turn mad? Is it so bad to want nothing to do with that?" She jumped up from her seat, her headache flared, as did her temper.

Arianne rose to meet her, and stared Elyse right in her eyes. "Get yourself together and stop acting like a petulant child. You want to be treated like an adult who can make mature decisions, but that can't happen until you start acting like an adult. I see you as a Martell and if that is what you want to be then that's alright, but you can't just ignore anything else that doesn't fit your narrative. You are so concerned about your mad relatives that you can't see that if you continuing acting this way then you'll certainly go mad."

Part of Elyse felt unbelievably ashamed and wanted nothing more than to promise Arianne that she would change, and accept who she really was.

The reality was far different.

Pushing Arianne away from her, she hurried out the library slamming the door as she went.


	7. Chapter 7

A.N: Before this next chapter I'll just address some of the reviews (as much as I can without spoiling the story)

-Don't worry about Elyse caring more about the north than her own people. The north will not become involved in this story for a long time, and I don't have any plans so far for her to go that far north

-Is Aegon alive? To be honest I haven't fully decided about that yet, but I won't go into any more detail about what I have planned in case I change my mind.

-Is this going to be JonxRhaenys? Who Rhaenys/Elyse ultimately ends up with is a secret for now, but I don't want this to become one of the stories where all the female does is fall in love and get married and has children, so the focus for now is definitely on her as an individual

A.N: End

As annoyed as she was at both Arianne and Doran, she refused to let the rest of her family see her emotions, keeping her pain simmering below the surface. The entire basis for the argument was ridiculous, she knew that, what reason did she have to be angry that Doran was planning to put Viserys on the throne when Elyse had absolutely no desire to be Queen herself?

Most people imagined that ruling was spending your days lounging around, eating fine food and wearing beautiful dresses; they had no idea that it was a far greater curse than it was a prize. It meant being responsible for the millions of lives who depended on you, even though in reality the monarch had virtually no influence over the lives on the smallfolk. The King was expected to be harsh, but fair, but how could that ever work when people disagreed over what justice was, and if her childhood in the Red Keep had taught her anything then it was that there was no such thing as a just ruler. Every ruler lived by their own rules, rewarding and punishing who they wanted, or else were simply puppets for those more cunning then they were.

Under Aerys, the court had been at the whim of a madman, slaves to his every crazed request, anyone could be burned alive at any moment. However, the smallfolk hadn't suffered as much as the highborn, as long as there was grain in the fields and peace then what did they care who sat on the throne.

She knew that family loyalty should make her hate Robert Baratheon, after all he killed her father and ended the Targaryen dynasty that had spanned centuries. However, to a large extent he had simply been the Lannister figurehead, it had been Tywin Lannister who had orchestrated her family's murder and placed his own daughter as on the throne beside Robert. The King was not a noble man, from what she heard he had whored and drunk his way through his reign, but in that aspect, was he no different from most men, and how could she blame him for that. There were many men who would be better on the throne, but was that a good enough reason to want to depose him?

Oberyn disagreed with her, well he would if Elyse ever vocalised her opinion. Not wanting to clash with the only family she had left, she had mostly kept her ambivalence to the throne hidden. But, at the end of the day, he was perhaps one of her favourite relatives, and so when she approached him a few mornings after her encounter with Arianne she had no desire for an argument.

"Uncle." "Elyse." They greeted each other, she sitting beside him on the balcony.

"What happened between you and Arianne?" He was a perceptive man, and it was not hard to sense the tension between the cousins recently.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't treat me like a fool, little one, I know when you're lying."

Elyse stared her uncle in the eye, trying to seem as confident as possible. "I'm not lying."

"You bite your lip, your mother did the same thing whenever she lied." She instantly stopped doing so when she realised what Oberyn was saying was true.

"My mother never lied about anything." In Elyse's mind Elia was the epitome of all that was good and pure in the world. It had never even occurred to her that her mother had ever down something as human as lie.

"Elia was quite a liar when we were young, it was never about anything serious. I remember one time in particular. Even though she had been ill and been bedridden for weeks, she decided to sneak down to the sea to play. That afternoon, father confronted her about it and she lied, claiming that she hadn't left her bed all day. However, I saw right through her lie, just as I do yours." The way Oberyn described his siblings' childhood made it seem so idyllic, a simpler time far away from the tragedy and pain that would follow.

"She was that easy to read?"

Oberyn smirked as his niece, "Well… it didn't help that I had seen her at the beach myself."

Silence followed for several seconds: Elyse stared down at her hands and smiling sadly.

"Thank you for that story." She finally said, her smile reaching her eyes.

"I got a letter from Quentyn today." Oberyn changed the topic of conversation suddenly, motioning to the aforementioned letter placed on the table beside him.

"What did it say?" Quentyn had been squired with Lord Yronwood for years, and even though Yronwood was within Dorne, the young Dornish prince was kept too busy to visit except for a handful of times.

"There's to be a tourney in Kings Landing, celebrating the King's birthday. He will be there and was wondering if I would go to see him and witness how much progress he had made."

As a child Quentyn hadn't exactly been the most naturally gifted swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms, to call him average would be a great compliment. Elyse and him had been very close in age, and therefore spent time a lot of time playing as children; she had therefore taken his fostering very hard, at first not understanding why her best friend, besides Sarella, was being taken away from her.

Before Oberyn had finished speaking, Elyse cut in: "I want to go with you."

The Prince scoffed, laughing at her impatience. "Niece! I haven't even said if I was going yet."

"But you will be." Elyse argued, though her words were far from pleading. Even if she wouldn't admit it, she was far too proud for her own good. "We haven't seen Quentyn in years and I don't know when we'll see him again."

"Did you not hear that it will be in Kings Landing?" Oberyn didn't need to elaborate, the danger he proposed was clear.

"So?" Oberyn's warning ignored.

"It might not be good for you to go back there."

"It isn't as though anyone will recognise me! Everyone thinks I'm dead, and besides what reason would they possibly have to suspect the truth? I have to move on and live life as your bastard." Her words rang true to Oberyn, but that didn't stop his protective instinct that refused to let anything happen to the only thing that was left of Elia. He had promised all those years ago to keep his niece safe, and going to the capital had the risk of destroying everything he had worked for.

"Don't call yourself that."

"Why not? It's better to be a Dornish bastard than an unwanted relic from a line of mad, incestuous kings."

Most of the time Oberyn knew that his niece was extremely intelligent, she had read more books than anyone else he knew, and had a brain for strategy. However, this was not one of those times; he knew that Elyse was acting rashly and without caution.

"Outside of Dorne they don't treat bastards the same as they do here. You have to understand that people in Kings Landing will stare at you and pay you more attention simply because I keep you close to me."

"Since when have you cared that people will stare, you embrace it!" He couldn't complain about that, and he realised that his defeat with inevitable.

"Are you not worried about being so close to Robert Baratheon and his swarm of Lannisters?"

"Martells aren't afraid of anything. They should be afraid of us." Elyse's eyes were filled with a determination, a fire that he so rarely got to see in the young woman.

Sighing, Oberyn relented. "Alright, little warrior. I'll take you with me, but you have to promise that you will be careful. Going north does not normally end well for our family."

"It's just a tourney, and besides it'll be good for me to leave Dorne for a bit."

As she smiled, Elyse ran out of the room, rushing to go and pack her belongings.


	8. Chapter 8

Elyse didn't know what to expect in Kings Landing; they had spent so many long days and nights travelling north yet she had not spared a single moment to mentally, and emotionally, prepare herself. This was largely intentional, as if ignoring her trauma, she could erase entirely from her mind. Elyse was not Rhaenys, a distinction that she found herself insisting more and more the closer they got to the capital.

She hadn't seen the city since the day she was smuggled out as a small child, and even then, she hadn't exactly been overly familiar with the city itself. A small child, a royal princess, would never have been allowed to wander the overpopulated, dirty streets that she know approached, her uncle riding at her side. All she could remember was flashes of the Red Keep itself, long hallways, towering doors. Her own room was a memory mostly lost to time, she could imagine the bed, the door and the window, but little else besides. The bed, her father's bed, _no_ , not her father… that man's bed, was one recollection that she couldn't burn from her mind no matter how many times she tried.

"It must feel strange to be back." Oberyn commented, slowing his horse so that he could match her pace. Elyse realized she had slowed considerably since they entered the city.

"A bit." She admitted. "I don't really remember anything anyway."

She hadn't been prepared for the stares. It was not often the Dornish ventured up north, even for a tourney, and was supposed they must look exotic compared to what they were used to. Their horses were leaner than most, the colour of sand itself, and Elyse, a female, rode with the men instead of sitting in a wheelhouse. Their clothes were both tighter and more revealing than they were used to seeing, and she could see the disapproving gazes when they saw her breeches.

"How much further is it?"

"The visitors for the tourney all have tents on the grounds next to the Red Keep, so not much longer, little one." The men Oberyn had sent ahead the day before would have made sure the arrangements were ready for their arrival.

The rest of their journey continued in much the same way, a combination of Elyse's attempts to not meet the gazes of the people around her, people who were entirely unaware of who she is. Part of her was constantly on edge at the idea of someone being able to recognise her, seeing the way her eyes looked brown from a distance but in reality, were deep violet, and then figure out that she was a long dead Princess. The other side of her, the other extreme of her personality, knew that purple eyes were not unique to the Targaryens, the Daynes were an example of that. Who could claim that her being Oberyn's bastard was impossible?

The tourney grounds were far busier than she had expected, billowing tents and colourful banners covered every blade of grass, _finding anything would be impossible_ , she thought. She and Oberyn dismounted, about to set off in the direction of a distant Martell sigil. The noise was deafening that that didn't stop her hearing one name above the din.

"Uncle!" A familiar voice called, and a figure emerged from the chaos. Dark haired, relatively short and stocky, not the most conventionally attractive man in Westeros, but a more loyal friend than could ever be found. _Quentyn._

He was not quite as short as he had been when they had last seen each other as children, but she still looked down on him, their entirely opposite figures made them seem less like family than they were.

When he reached them, he was quickly pulled into a hug by Oberyn, who ruffled his hair playfully and greeted him. As soon as her uncle allowed Quentyn room to breathe, he threw his arms around her, as though the years apart hadn't happened. It may not be a true reunion of their old group: Sarella was back in Dorne, but she couldn't help but smile. There hadn't been many things recently that could raise her mood, but this more than made up for the turmoil she had been feeling.

"How did you manage to get even taller?" He marveled, visibly trying to stretch himself higher to compensate. His height had always been a sore subject, a persistent insecurity.

"It's good to see you, Quent." She smiled, her tone genuine. As children, he had been largely friendless, isolated for his solemn and sensible nature. Sarella liked to joke that Quentyn and Elyse were in fact twins, claiming they were both as boring as each other. For the outward similarities, the cousins knew that they were very different, Elyse's bouts of melancholy were often erratic and polarised by her capacity for strong emotions, Quentyn's nature was far less extreme.

"I've missed you too, Rhaenys." The words slipped out before he could stop himself, the air freezing almost instantly.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to call you that, _Elyse_." He stressed, rushing the words out

She scanned the area, trying to see if anyone had overhead his comment, but there seemed to be no one paying an unnatural amount of attention to their conversation. That didn't stop Oberyn from grabbing both of their shoulders and pulling them in the direction of the tent. As she was being pulled, her mind racing far too fast for her to keep up.

When she had first arrived in Dorne, Quentyn had seemed incapable of calling her Elyse, too young to understand why calling his cousin by her name was so dangerous. It had taking years to break this habit and even in his letters preferred to address her as 'cousin' rather than by her assumed name.

Mere strides from the tent, their march was interrupted by a tall, armoured figure stepping in their way. The man, old and white-haired, had a long white cape behind him and a stunning sword strapped by his side. There was something about him which seemed familiar but she couldn't place it.

"Prince Oberyn, I was hoping to speak with you." The man spoke, his tone cautious, as though he was a disobedient child hoping not to be reprimanded.

Oberyn, clearly recognised him, for he pulled his niece and nephew behind him. "Selmy."

 _Barristan Selmy._

That was a name Elyse did recognise, a member of her grandfather's kingsguard and one of the best swordfighters in Westeros. She supposed that she couldn't fault him for now serving the Baratheons after serving the Targaryens for so long, it must be nice not to have to follow the every whim of a madman.

"I was surprised when they told me you would be attending," He paused, carefully considering his words. "I had to speak to you."

Oberyn didn't reply at first, his eyes burning with a fire that Elyse saw every time he thought of his dead sister and nephew. So often he appeared entirely nonchalant and carefree, there were few things that could make his façade slip.

"I haven't been here since my sister and her children were murdered." Oberyn said, his words deliberately accusatory.

Ser Barristan's eyes turned to the floor. "You must know that the knowledge that I failed the Princess haunts me every day."

"Yet you serve the people who killed her. The people who allowed my little sister be raped and murdered, whilst her children were killed for nothing more than the actions of their bastard of a father."

"I would never wish harm upon a child, no matter who they are." His eyes went to Elyse and Quentyn, still stood behind Oberyn.

Oberyn's temper was only rising the more they spoke, his fists tensing around the dagger that hung at his side. Elyse realised that the situation had to be diffused quickly or else someone would be injured, or even killed. She knew her uncle was one of the most skilled warriors in Westeros, but so was Ser Barristan, no one could predict the outcome of them fighting.

"Uncle, please, not now." She placed her hand on his shoulder, pleading to him. Oberyn couldn't truly place any significant blame on this man, he had fought against the Baratheons and Lannisters at the Trident. That knowledge probably did little to diminish her uncle's anger, he was either associated with the people who killed her mother and brother, or with the man who abandoned his family for a woman-child.

"You should listen to the girl, Prince Oberyn, I have no desire to fight you." Barristan said, meeting Elyse's eyes.

"This is not over." Oberyn finally gritted, making his way past the old knight and into the tent.

Quentyn immediately followed after their uncle, knowing that someone would have to calm him done before he did something he would regret. Elyse stepped forward to follow him when Ser Barristan opened his mouth to speak.

"Prince Oberyn is your father?" He asked before she could leave.

Nodding, she met his eyes. "I am Elyse Sand."

"I assumed so, you look partly Dornish, you have the Martell nose."

Caught off guard, Elyse stopped right in front of him, confusion written across her features. "Slightly?"

As he spoke, he gestured as her face. "Your nose is just like your aunts."

"Elia, her name was Princess Elia Martell." She stubbornly insisted, her mother deserved to be more than just a passing comment.

"Yes, it was." He spoke, his stature deflating as he sighed.

Still curious, she continued. "If my nose is Dornish, then what is the rest of me?"

She knew it was a risky path for the conversation to take, there was the risk of uncovering her true identity, but she couldn't help it. Her whole life she had prided herself on resembling her mother, a true Dornish beauty.

"Your skin is tanned, but is lighter than your father and cousin's, I imagine it would be even lighter if you didn't reside in Dorne." He paused before continuing, "Was your mother of Valyrian descent?"

Of everything she had expected him to say, that was not something she had even considered him asking. How was it possible for him to see something in her that even she couldn't see? "What makes you think so?"

"You face, it may be tanned but your features are entirely Valyrian, except you nose, and also your eye colour. I have spent years surrounded by Valyrians, something about you reminds me of them."

"The Targaryens." She stated, no emotion leaking into her voice.

He nodded, and looked expectantly at her, waiting for her to answer the question he had asked. "I assumed your mother must have some Valyrian anscestry."

It was taking all of her focus to not simultaneously break down crying and start screaming, her emotions reaching a height beyond anything she had expected. All the memories she had spent years burying where being forced to the surface, a fire burned inside that threatened to overwhelm her.

"No." She cut, not able to speak to him anymore. Without so much as a goodbye, Elyse hurried into the tent, not allowing the old knight to see her eyes flooding with tears.


End file.
